


For the Best

by Writingwife83



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 2500 follower fic giveaway, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Estrangement, F/M, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Miscarriage, Mutual Pining, Romance, Scenes from the past, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29592735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writingwife83/pseuds/Writingwife83
Summary: The year is nearly 1900, and after growing up together many years before, Molly Hooper moves to London and once again finds herself in the company of Sherlock Holmes. What others around them don’t realize is that they share a far deeper history then either is letting on. Perhaps it’s finally time for old wounds to heal and for something new to grow.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Comments: 120
Kudos: 107
Collections: Wifey’s Sherlolly Prompts





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mychakk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychakk/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for this prompt mychakk, and I very much hope you enjoy what I do with it!

[Fic Moodboard ](https://writingwife-83.tumblr.com/post/643681191951761408/keep-reading-ch-1-on-ao3)

**_1887_ **

_Sherlock stepped up to the window, close enough that his nose was nearly touching the glass, riveted to the simple action of trunks being placed one by one into the carriage. He could see her inside, just barely, her profile visible through the carriage window. She looked so serious, even somber. It struck him that this was such a stark contrast to most of the years he’d known her. So very different from the happy years they’d spent together as children._

_But then, he supposed they were children no longer._

_Sherlock’s fingers lifted, touching the glass in alignment with where she appeared in his line of vision. He felt so very helpless in all of this, and he had a very bad feeling about the outcome of this particular decision. It was a feeling which he’d been trying to shove back into the recesses of his mind, but it would not fully leave him be._

_Perhaps...perhaps there was still time._

_As soon as Sherlock took one step away from the window, Mycroft happened to step into the sitting room, regarding him with an admittedly perceptive eye._

_“Doctor Hooper’s prognosis is not good, I take it?”_

_“No, not good,” Sherlock confirmed._

_“Then it seems that she is making a wise decision in returning home to care for him.”_

_Sherlock’s gaze shifted to the profile within the carriage again._

_“Yes, but perhaps…” he ventured, hesitant. “Perhaps I should have offered to-”_

_“To what, Sherlock?” Mycroft questioned with a little huff. “There is little you can do for the man, surely you know that. Besides, if she has made this decision I imagine she prefers it this way, to have a bit of time away to collect herself as well as to care for her father. It has, after all, been a trying few months.”_

_Sherlock didn’t need to be reminded. He knew just how trying it had been, more so than he wanted to._

_“But sometimes I fear I could have...” he attempted once more, stepping closer to the window again and observing as the final trunk was placed in the baggage hold. “I could have done more. And if I should let her leave as things are now...I wonder very much what will become of us.”_

_Mycroft stepped up beside him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “All lives end, and all hearts break,” he stated rather flatly. “Caring so very deeply about such things is not an advantage.”_

_Sherlock turned, looking at his brother, the only source of counsel on this matter that he had at his disposal. Where else could he turn when he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do? If he were honest, he hadn’t known what to do for many months now. Nothing felt right anymore._

_“Do not make a spectacle. Simply let her go, Sherlock,” Mycroft advised, his words firm and authoritative. “It is surely for the best.”_

_Mycroft released his shoulder then, giving him a single nod in confirmation of his counsel, and then he stepped away, leaving Sherlock alone once again._

_Sherlock turned back to the window, seeing the driver climb up and ready the carriage to leave. He swallowed thickly, twisting nervously at the ring on his left finger as the horses began walking and the wheels began turning, carrying her away._

_He told himself many times that day, and in some of the days that followed, that this was nothing. She would go, visit her ailing father, and be back before much time had passed. But there was also a part of him that knew deep down what this simple moment meant, and that the sight of that carriage rolling slowly down the lane and getting further and further out of view was far from nothing. He had the sinking feeling that he was watching a page turn, and literally seeing a very brief chapter of his life come to a close._

_But as the carriage disappeared around the bend, he stepped away from the window, and tried his best to stand tall and get on with it. Because, after all, his brother may be right. Perhaps it was for the best._

* * *

**1897**

Molly placed the bunch of wildflowers down at the simple little plaque in the grass, brushing some of the leaves away from the name of her dearly departed father. Straightening up again, she smiled downward. 

“Well, the day has finally come. I’m here to say goodbye, Papa, at least for now. I don’t think I’ll be able to visit for some time.”

Molly held her head up high, pleased to share this very big news. 

“I’m going to London,” she explained with a proud smile. “I’ve finally been accepted into the medical program at St Bartholomew's Hospital. Me! Can you believe it?!”

She shook her head, almost unable to believe the words herself as she heard them aloud. 

“You always believed in me, papa, and I’m more grateful for that now than ever. I don’t know if I’d have had the strength to keep chasing my dream of medicine had you not always promised me I could be whatever I chose to be. Now I know you were right. I'm ashamed to think how much time I wasted doubting myself.”

Molly drew a deep breath, thinking about how far she’d come. It did pain her to have sold her family home and to be leaving the countryside where she’d spent her life up to then. But she knew she had to take this leap, had to leave some things behind in order to get to where she wanted to be. It would all be worth it in the end.

There was really only one thing that frightened her which she had little or no control over.

“I do know I might...see _him_ again,” Molly admitted, lowering her voice as if she didn’t really want to hear the words. “But I’ve thought about it quite a lot, and I know I’m strong enough for that now. Besides, there’s really no other way, is there? London is one of the only places within my reach that could give me a place in the world of medicine. I’ll never make it out here. And I can’t wait any longer for my life to start. I’ve got to make it happen.”

She toyed with the fingertips of her gloves, taking a few deep breaths.

“I know it was your wish that things would turn out differently for Sherlock and I. But I- I accepted long ago that things are better as they are. And if you were still here, I feel sure you would see that as well. There was too much unsaid between us, and for a long time it ate away at me. But after so many years of thinking, I’ve begun to realize that perhaps it is better that way. I think it quite likely, given his silence, that I wouldn’t have wanted to hear what he had to say. This separation,” she stated, always hating the sound of the word. “This is how it must be.”

Clasping her hands tightly in an attempt to steady herself, she smiled. “And so, if we should meet again, I feel sure it will be cordial. No more anger, or hurt, or bitterness. We will surely behave as...old acquaintances. In truth, I hardly even think of him as my husband anymore.”

Yes, it had been years since she’d even uttered the word in connection to the man named Sherlock Holmes. It felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Well,” Molly said, emitting a little sigh. “I should be getting on, and not keep the carriage driver waiting any longer.”

She stooped down, pressing her fingertips to the cool stone. “I love you so very much, Papa, and I promise I’ll visit again as soon as I’m able.”

Molly left the little cemetery, returning to the waiting carriage which held all her possessions she had left in the world. She climbed in with the rest of what made up her little life, and then she gave the carriage permission to drive on; on to her new home, and hopefully new career.

On to London. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m pretty excited about developing this plot because I feel like there’s some really meaty and interesting things to cover. Hope you guys are excited to come along for the ride! More to come soon! ;)  
> Beta credit to Lexie ❤️


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Thanks so much for the very warm reception of the first chapter, friends! It was so appreciated. :) Here’s the next part and I hope you enjoy!

**1897**

“Here we are,” the older woman announced, opening a door and allowing Molly entry into a bedroom. “The other two beds are occupied, as you may be able to see, so mind you keep to your own space.”

“Yes, of course,” Molly agreed, walking into the room and glancing around before setting her cases onto the vacant bed.

“And as I mentioned in our correspondence, we run a _proper_ boarding house here,” the woman added, her nose lifting a bit. “I expect all my boarders to be in before dark as that’s when we lock up, and if I hear of anything untoward-“

“Oh no, you’ll have no trouble from me, I can assure you.” Molly laughed a little. “If I’m not at St Bart’s I’ll surely be sitting right here studying!”

The woman was hardly amused, regarding her with obvious judgement, despite Molly’s description of a perfectly respectable use of time. But then of course, it wasn’t respectable to everybody. 

The woman locked her hands together, making her way to the bedroom door. “You may stay as long as you like, providing you cause no trouble and rent is paid promptly on the first of the month. Is that understood?”

“Yes, absolutely. Thank you so much.”

The woman gave her one more stern glance, then stepped out and shut the door behind her. Molly released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding in, suddenly feeling like she was back in primary school. Taking a seat on the squeaky little cot in the corner, she took her hat off, looking around at her small space and reminding herself to be thankful for what she had. She was living a dream, conquering a goal she’d set since childhood. And besides, it wouldn’t always be like this. A day would come when she wouldn’t be forced to stay in a boarding house with only the corner of one room to call her own. 

Better times were ahead, but first she had to chase them.

* * *

Molly’s first week in London felt like a whirlwind. She was overwhelmed, and not just with the work. It was quite a lot to become accustomed to simply living in London when she’d grown up in the country. The added hustle and bustle was more of an adjustment than she’d anticipated. Nearly every day had been spent at Bart’s thus far, and then she’d hurry back to her boarding house as quickly as possible to study and rest up for the next day. But that was the trouble...it was not at all quick to get back there. 

She had quickly come to the conclusion that not all of London was as easy a distance as she’d assumed. Blackwall had seemed an excellent choice for her residence, being part of London and also reasonable in price. But once she’d arrived and begun making her way about the city, the reality of the distance to Bart’s became much clearer. Having to daily cross the river and walk just under four miles felt like quite a punishment early in the morning and at the end of the day when she wanted nothing more than to collapse. She tried the underground but it’s overcrowding and fumes nearly made her faint and wouldn’t have cut her walking by much at any rate. Already she’d given in and gotten a pedicab one day, but she couldn’t possibly make a habit of that, seeing as she couldn’t manage that much of an added expense. She promised herself instead to invest in an especially good umbrella for bad weather days and some sturdier footwear. 

It was also a surprisingly significant adjustment to start sharing a room with other women. It was difficult to study well, difficult to sleep, and in general just a bit awkward. She could only hope her living situation would not impact her learning and focus during her days in the classroom. 

On that particular day, she’d spent long and rather tedious hours in the classroom, listening, taking notes, and reading. Her mind was still whirring as the teacher, Dr Stamford, finally dismissed them for the day. The room was clearing out quickly as Molly took the time to pack up her textbooks and prepare for her long walk, beginning to think about what sort of tidbit she might buy to eat on the way. 

“Dr Stamford, I wonder if this hospital is in the habit of employing anyone who hasn’t fully taken leave of their senses!”

Molly froze, her hand hovering a textbook above her satchel where she stood with her back to the front of the classroom. She knew that voice, she’d know it anywhere. Even though she had prepared herself that this might happen at some point here in London, she only wished she’d have known it was coming at this very moment, and that she’d have been able to steady her heart for this kind of mental and emotional upheaval. 

“Now I’d very much appreciate it if you’d accompany me down to the morgue and explain to your staff why they should listen to me just the same as they would Inspector Lestrade, seeing as it is his case that I’m currently solving since he is so incapable of doing so on his own!” 

Stamford laughed good-naturedly. “Now, Holmes, I’ve only just finished a lecture. Perhaps you’d at least allow me to clear my classroom before you force me on such an errand.”

Molly took a deep breath, and then another, and then another. She knew this was the moment it would have to happen. There was no sense in putting it off, particularly if he frequented this hospital. If it wasn’t today, it might be tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Better for it to be today, and for the next day to get easier, and the next easier still. 

She waited until the other students who had been lingering passed her by to leave, and then she turned, picking up her satchel and marching bravely to the front of the room. She felt the shock of it clear from her head to her toes when her eyes met Sherlock Holmes’ for the first time in a full ten years. 

“Mr Holmes, this is one of my students; my only female student this year, in fact! Mrs Hooper, this is my good friend Mr Holmes.”

Molly extended her gloved hand, willing it to stop trembling, and she felt him gingerly accept it. She looked up at him, daring to look right into those churning, oceanic eyes which were still as mesmerizing as she ever remembered them to be.

He looked different of course, ten years would do that to a person. God knows how different she might look to him. But from where she stood at least, he’d nothing but matured. She could hardly use the word aged. He’d lost that bit of boyishness and it was replaced with the features and stature of a truly grown man. He wore the last ten years impressively well. 

“ _Mrs Hooper,_ ” Sherlock said pointedly, watching her eyes very carefully with his own, an understanding passing quickly between them which was brief enough to have been imperceptible to any onlookers. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Stamford’s brow lifted. “Ah, have you met before then?”

“Indeed we have,” he confirmed, his gaze shifting from hers to Stamford. “We grew up not far from each other. I...knew her father rather well.” He looked back into her eyes. “My condolences, once again.”

“Thank you,” Molly replied quietly, giving him a tight smile, vaguely recalling the incredibly short note she’d received from him, five years ago after her father’s passing. He’d offered condolences, wished her well, and offered to be of assistance if ever needed. She’d gotten wishes from acquaintances she barely knew that were warmer and more personalized than she had from her own husband. 

“I’ve just arrived last week, so I am still becoming accustomed to London,” she added, attempting polite conversation. “I imagine for you it has long felt like home. You moved here some years ago, did you not?”

He nodded. “Over four years ago now, yes. London and I get on rather well.”

“He’s made quite a business for himself here!” Stamford laughed, clapping Sherlock on the shoulder. “Some might say he’s even earned a bit of fame! He’s quite the detective, and we see him very often here at Bart’s.”

“How fascinating,” Molly managed, not having realized how large a presence her husband had right in the place where she had chosen to be.

“Well,” Stamford announced. “You’ll have to excuse me, Mrs Hooper, but apparently I need to have a word with the morgue. You coming, Holmes?”

Sherlock hesitated, his gaze shifting a bit. “On further consideration, I imagine that your words may carry more weight should you speak them without my presence. I’ll follow along shortly.”

All three of them exited the classroom and Stamford made his way toward the nearest stairwell, leaving Molly alone with Sherlock. For just a moment, there was a painfully loud silence.

“Congratulations.”

Molly’s eyes shot to his in question.

“On your acceptance to St Bart’s,” he clarified. “This is something you’ve long desired.”

His voice seemed almost deeper than when she’d last seen him, though she imagined that was unlikely. It wasn’t as if he were a child when they were last in each other’s presence. Perhaps it just sounded new, suddenly ringing in her ears again after such a long absence. 

She gave him a little nod. “Yes, it has been quite a long journey to get here. Oh and thank you. That is, for not saying...anything. It seemed an awkward and unnecessary subject to broach. Particularly among people that are strangers to me. I thought this would be...simpler.” A thought occurred to her. “But of course if your acquaintances are already aware of our connection, then I suppose we shall have to-“

“No one is aware.”

His immediate and definitive statement admittedly stung a little, but it hardly came as a shock to her. Clearly he came to London with a similar aim as she had- to start fresh and to leave the past behind him.

Sherlock cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. “I imagine you’ve got a place to stay.”

“Yes, I have,” she replied proudly. “I was able to find a bed in a boarding house in Blackwell.”

Sherlock’s nose instantly crinkled up. “A boarding house in Blackwell?” He made a little huff, his sharp eyes narrowing. “That’s no place for a woman.”

Molly felt her hackles raising. It didn’t matter that he was right or not. She had worked hard to carve out this path for herself and she wasn’t in the mood to be told she was doing a rubbish job of it.

“And why wouldn’t it be?” she asked, her chin held high and meeting his eyes directly.

He seemed to study her for a moment, his head tilting only slightly and Molly got the impression that he might be weighing his words. “Hardly convenient to walk all that way,” he said finally, “Even when the weather is fair.”

“It is perfectly fine,” Molly asserted, bristling at the fact that he’d narrowed in right on what she felt was the problem. “In fact, I find the daily exercise invigorating.”

He chuckled mirthlessly. “Yes, I imagine the risk to your safety when crossing the river really gets the blood pumping.”

Oh that smug little smirk, she remembered it all too well. In many ways, he hadn’t changed a bit. Before she could refute his comments though, he took it a surprising step further.

“I would like to offer an alternative.”

Molly frowned. “An alternative to what exactly?”

“Your living situation of course. You see, I let a flat on Baker St, which is far closer to Bart’s. My landlady, Mrs Hudson, is an old family friend and she charges a very reasonable rate. In addition to her flat and mine, she has another which is currently vacant and she would like to let out as well. 221C is downstairs, a bit damp perhaps, but not entirely unappealing, and with a minimal amount of improvement it would be perfectly-“

“Thank you, but no,” Molly interjected, squaring her shoulders. “I think it best that I stay where I am. I’m perfectly comfortable there.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “It is of course a completely _separate_ living space.”

“Yes, I assumed it was. I simply prefer to stay in the boarding house,” she insisted, actively convincing herself as well that she was right to insist on this matter. 

He regarded her with something like suspicion for a long moment, then finally gave her a nod. “Suit yourself, though the offer will stand as Mrs Hudson is not publicly advertising at the moment.”

“Perhaps she should,” Molly replied with a smile, not wanting to budge. “She’ll surely find a tenant more quickly that way.”

“Yes, perhaps,” he agreed simply, opening his mouth before quickly closing it again, as if deciding against further discussion. “Well...I suppose I’ll be wanted down in the morgue soon enough. And hopefully now they will be far more agreeable.”

“I won’t keep you any longer. And I imagine we will be running into one another from time to time, Mr Holmes,” Molly admitted. 

“I imagine so,” he agreed, a slightly softening of his tone. “Until next time then.”

She inclined her head and gave him a quick smile, then turned to leave, grateful that this business was over. At least this first encounter was behind them, and now she could move forward without dreading that it was looming on the horizon. Surely each time she saw him, the still somewhat tender and sensitive memories from their past would fade, and this would become a new sort of normal existence for them. It would all become easier.

* * *

“I beg your pardon, but I do not see how you feel this was appropriate,” Molly argued, taking back her dressing gown from the woman. She’d spent the better part of an hour asking around when she’d returned to the boarding house, tired from the walk and desperately wanting to wash up. It took quite some time to finally discover that one of her roommates had simply swiped it from where it lay on her cot.

One of the two women who shared the room with her shrugged. “I needed something to put on and it was right there.” She rolled her eyes and laughed with the other woman. “S’cuse me, Miss High and Mighty!”

“I’ll thank you not to touch my things in future,” Molly stated, as firm but kind as she could manage. 

The other woman laughed. “Maybe you’ve not heard, but we share things round ‘ere. Specially with you having finer things than most of us have seen in some time. Not fair to keep that all to y’self!”

“You ain’t a doctor yet, love!”

The two women burst into a fit of laughter and Molly had to bite her tongue, turning and retreating to the other side of the room where she could do little else but sit on her bed and pretend she had some peace, quiet, and solitude. As she sat there, wishing she was anywhere else but where she was, she hated to admit to herself what all of this meant- she’d be a fool not to take Sherlock up on his offer. Sighing and turning the page in her textbook as she did her best to ignore the sniggering on the other side of the room, Molly quietly settled on what she’d be doing for her first day off.

It was time to pay Mrs Hudson a visit at 221 Baker Street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My oh my, how convenient! XD I know there’s still lots of questions to be answered about their past, but they’ll be coming. I’m just going to be doing that gradually so you’ll have to keep following along hehe. ;) I’m hoping for regular weekly updates btw, now since this is currently my only WIP.  
> A small historical note btw, from both myself and my esteemed beta reader Lexie- there is a lot of drama and negativity regarding a woman being in medical school, more so at Bart’s actually, compared to some other schools accepting women. Would Bart’s have been the best place? Probably not. But for the sake of the fic I’m not going to get into some of that stuff. Also, just FYI Lexie really pulled her weight with some geographic research for this chapter, so big kudos and thanks for that lol! ❤️


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, readers! I’m planning for Monday to be my weekly update day for this fic going forward. Especially when I’m working on just one fic, I like to stick to a weekly posting schedule. It keeps me organized and I think it makes things predictable for you guys, in a good way lol.

**_1886_ **

_ Molly crept around the house, getting close enough to the open window so she could just manage to listen as her father spoke to Mr and Mrs Holmes in the sitting room. She was surprised to see them arrive that day. It wasn’t often that her father invited the Holmeses to visit, despite the fact that their families lived rather near to each other.  _

_ “I certainly do not mean to cause any offense,” her father said, “But I do believe my question is a valid one...what are you son’s intentions toward my daughter?” _

_ Molly’s heart leapt in shock and horror. _

_ Mr Holmes cleared his throat. “To speak plainly, Dr Hooper, I cannot say that we are aware of any particular intentions on his part. They are friends; very much as they always have been, since childhood. We are not aware of any romantic attachment on Sherlock’s part.” _

_ Dr Hooper sighed deeply. “I feared as much. It pains me to say this, but I wonder if I will have to...perhaps send her away for a while.” _

_ Molly clutched her beating heart, nearly ready to leap through the window.  _

_ “Send Molly away?” Mrs Holmes questioned.  _

_ Her father paused. “I imagine something like this might not occur to you as it would to me, being the father of a daughter with limited means. Mr and Mrs Holmes, you must understand my predicament. I am a widower, and I have but one child. My Molly is all I have, and unfortunately I am all she has. One can never be sure what the near future will bring, so I must think seriously about what will become of her when the day comes that I am no longer here. And naturally, that includes protecting her reputation. If Sherlock has no intention of marriage, well then I fear I must remove my girl from the situation entirely. You must see as I do, that the two of them spend quite a bit of time in each other’s company, and they are hardly the children that they once were. The time has come when their behavior will be seen as inappropriate.” _

_ “They certainly do seem to have a peculiar sort of...attachment,” Mrs Holmes agreed. “They always have.” _

_ “I have a second cousin in France,” Dr Hooper said thoughtfully. “Perhaps I could send her there for a time, just to make a clean break of it. I hate to think of causing her such pain, I feel I’m left with little choice.” _

_ “That does seem a terrible shame,” Mr Holmes said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mrs Holmes?” _

_ “It would be indeed!” Mrs Holmes agreed vehemently. “A terrible shame. I confess I’ve long hoped that our boy would think of settling down, but we’ve thus far been sadly disappointed. And I will also admit that his friendship with Miss Hooper has been such a good influence over the years. He seems easier in spirit when he’s with her. He should have proposed already, if you ask me!” _

_ “I must say I agree,” Mr Holmes admitted, then paused for a breath. “In fact, I’ve a mind to take matters into my own hands.” _

_ “What are you saying exactly?” Dr Hooper questioned. _

_ There was another pause, long enough that Molly nearly screamed.  _

_ “Perhaps it is time that we simply make the decision for them,” Mr Holmes finally voiced. “We’ve always been fond of Molly, and it’s plain that the two of them get on splendidly. It would certainly please us to see Sherlock well settled with a girl who seems to keep him so well grounded and content. What do you say, my dear?” _

_ “I could not agree more! If I trust anyone to keep our Sherlock on the straight and narrow, it would be your daughter, Dr Hooper.” _

_ “Are you quite certain?” Dr Hooper asked cautiously. “As I said, I fear this situation has already gone on longer than it should. People will begin talking soon if they haven’t already. I will need your word that this matter is truly settled.” _

_ “We will make all the arrangements, Dr Hooper. You have our word,” Mr Holmes assured him. “I believe this will bring about the happiest outcome for all of us!” _

_ “Well,” Dr Hooper said with a laugh. “I suppose we can only hope our children feel the same!” _

_ “Ah, but they are such good friends!” Mrs Holmes said. “Love and happiness will no doubt grow from such a foundation. Mark my words, they will soon come to see the wisdom of this match!” _

_ As they continued happily talking and laughing and planning a future that they would not have to live, Molly crept away, not wanting to hear another word. She felt shocked, confused, and even a little betrayed. Perhaps she was naive and foolish, but all of this had completely blindsided her. And despite the way she thought of Sherlock Holmes deep in her heart, this felt far more like a nightmare than a dream. There was no finer man in her eyes, but did she want them to come together in this way? With their parents shoving them to the altar as if they’d done something to be ashamed of? Ironically, the idea of marrying her dearest friend had done nothing except to make her fear that she’d lose him. She knew him so well, and he’d hate this, all of it. She had no doubt about that. Might he even come to hate her? _

_ Tears of helplessness and fear rolled down the rosy cheeks of eighteen year old Molly Hooper, and she rushed away to sit under the big oak tree behind her house. And for once in her life, she hoped Sherlock Holmes did not happen upon her.  _

* * *

**1897**

Molly shielded her eyes, looking up from where she stood on the street, face to face with the large, black door. Her greatest wish at the moment was that Sherlock would not happen to be home, as her pride had already taken enough of a hit in visiting Baker Street. 

It was barely any time at all after she’d knocked at the great door before it swung open, revealing the bright, smiling face of an older woman.

“Oh hello there! You must be Mrs Molly Hooper!”

Molly’s jaw dropped. “I- well, yes I am. How did you-“

“Mr Holmes told me of course,” she explained with a little laugh and wave of her hand as she stepped aside and granted Molly entry. “He said I should be expecting you in the next day or so.”

It was all Molly could do not to turn and stomp away that instant, just to prove the man wrong. But this kind woman gave off such warmth that she managed to force herself not to.

“And you must be Mrs Hudson?” Molly asked once inside. 

“I am, dear. It’s very good to make your acquaintance. I understand Mr Holmes told you about my basement flat?”

“He did. My current living conditions leave a bit to be desired, so I decided I’d explore alternative options.”

Molly followed the older woman through the door in the hallway and down the steps, which opened into the small and simply furnished sitting room. The place seemed rather dark and unwelcoming at first, but it improved significantly the moment Mrs Hudson opened the drapes to let the sunshine in. 

“It’s been empty for so very long,” Mrs Hudson sighed. “I’ve had a terrible time getting it let. I did manage to get someone in here about a year ago but then they moved out not long after. They couldn’t bear the noise!”

Molly laughed to herself as she strolled around and peeked into the bedroom, having no trouble imagining what sort of racket others in the building might be forced to endure. 

“I confess I could likely bear quite a bit for the sake of having my own little space. At the moment I’ve only the corner of a room and a cot to myself.”

“Oh, you poor dear! That’s no way to live, and especially needing to focus on your studies.” She clicked her tongue. “You’re very brave, you know. To be a woman making her own way in the world, and as a doctor no less. I think it’s marvelous!”

Molly couldn’t help beaming with pride. “That means quite a lot, Mrs Hudson, thank you.”

She stood a touch taller. “As one independent woman to another, it would give me great pleasure to give you a comfortable place to stay.”

Blushing a little, Molly gave her a shy smile. “I am inclined to accept, but there is the matter of cost. I am of limited means, as you may imagine. I have no income at the moment. Even the cost of the boarding house was significant for me, and I fear that-“

Mrs Hudson reached out and took her hand. “Now don’t you worry yourself about that! I propose that you pay me just what the boarding house was costing you, and beyond that, perhaps you can spare some of your free time to help me around this old house. There’s always something to do, and I’m not as young as I used to be!” She punctuated the statement by pressing a hand to her lower back.

Molly was very genuinely touched, struggling with words. “Oh, Mrs Hudson, that is- that is  _ very _ kind of you. I cannot thank you enough for such a generous offer. So generous in fact that I should politely refuse, but I find my desperation forces me to swallow my pride! I promise that you won’t be sorry, and I’ll make sure to contribute in any way that I can.”

She laughed a little. “I have no doubt of your character, my dear. Any friend of Mr Holmes is certainly worthy of my trust.”

Something tightened in her chest, and Molly had to swallow thickly before speaking again. “It was...good of him to speak well of me. But I look forward to proving my character to you myself.” She drew a deep breath. “So, when might you allow me to move in?”

Mrs Hudson grinned. “Why, as soon as you are able to make the needed arrangements and bring your things. 221C is yours, my dear, so you may feel free to move in at your leisure!”

Feeling like a weight that had been upon her shoulders for the past week had just been lifted as Mrs Hudson pressed a small set of keys into her hand, Molly smiled. “Well then, Mrs Hudson...I shall see you again this very evening.”

* * *

“There you are, dear.” Mrs Hudson handed her a cup of tea which Molly gratefully accepted.

It had been such a long day and she was exhausted, having trekked all the way back to the boarding house to conclude her business arrangement with the landlord, only to bring all her things back across town to Baker Street. Given the distance and the fact that she was then bringing along two trunks with her, Molly did opt to hire a pedicab. But regardless, it all took quite some time. And when all was said and done, the sun was sinking low in the sky by the time she could officially call Baker St her new home.

Molly took a sip and sighed contentedly. “It is no exaggeration to say that this is the finest cup of tea I’ve had since coming to London.”

“If you are trying to flatter me, you’re already doing a brilliant job!” Mrs Hudson laughed. “I rarely hear such praise from Mr Holmes.”

Molly laughed as well. “I have no doubt of that.”

Mrs Hudson quirked an eyebrow as she sat at the kitchen table with her. “Mr Holmes did not say precisely how you knew him, but I gather you know him rather well.”

Molly cleared her throat, gripping the little teacup a bit tighter as she worked to keep a casual exterior. 

“Yes, I did know him well for a time, back when we both lived in the country. Our families were close. But I had not seen him in several years. I made his acquaintance again only just yesterday.”

“Well what a lovely coincidence! I’m sure it was good to see a familiar face, having moved to a new city.”

“I can say now that I’m glad to have seen him again,” she replied honestly. “If nothing else, I have him to thank for introducing me to you, and therefore giving me a lovely place to come home to after long days of learning and studying. I’ll certainly thank him for that.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Molly whirled around to see Sherlock standing in the doorway of Mrs Hudson’s kitchen. 

“Oh, Mr Holmes!” Mrs Hudson exclaimed. “You missed all the excitement with Mrs Hooper moving in earlier! I did wonder what time you’d be in.” She looked to Molly again. “One never can tell with this man. Sometimes he’s home for supper and other times he disappears for days on end. Always gives me such a fright!”

“Do not let her fool you,” Sherlock said, stepping into the room and giving the older woman a little squeeze round the shoulders. “She’d much rather have a bit of excitement and intrigue than have a house full of boring and predictable tenants.”

Molly couldn’t help smiling at the endearing moment between Sherlock and his landlady. 

“Oh, you,” Mrs Hudson chided playfully, pouring him a cup of tea as well. “We’ve just eaten, but let me make you something. You look famished!”

“Still working, Mrs Hudson. Just the tea for tonight, thank you.”

Mrs Hudson clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “It is shameful the way you refuse to take proper care of yourself, young man. Heaven help the woman who agrees to be your wife one day!”

Molly nearly choked on her tea, gulping down the last bit before she stood from the table and smiled warmly at Mrs Hudson.

“This has been lovely, thank you. What a pleasant welcome into your home. But it has been a long day, so I should retire for the night.”

“Of course, dear, you get some rest. Sleep well, but be sure to come upstairs for Sunday breakfast tomorrow morning!”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Molly turned to Sherlock. “Might I have a word, Mr Holmes?”

“Certainly.”

Sherlock followed her from Mrs Hudson’s kitchen, out into the main landing of the home, stopping just outside the door the 221C. 

“I meant what I said to Mrs Hudson,” Molly said, willing herself to look him in the eyes. “Thank you very much for pointing me in the direction of this house yesterday. I fully admit this will make a world of difference in my experience here in London, and I’m very grateful.”

“Yes, well I find one can never be content for any length of time in a boarding house,” Sherlock replied. “I’m pleased to have been of some service.”

Molly gulped. “And I am also particularly grateful that you spoke highly enough of me that Mrs Hudson was willing to not only offer me the flat, but to do so at a more than generous cost to me. In truth, I cannot see how she will profit at all in this arrangement, between putting me up and feeding me daily, even with my helping her wherever I can.”

He smiled a little. “She seemed far more chipper than I ever find her to be upon returning to Baker St. So perhaps the difference will be made up for in her relief at having a more pleasant tenant than I’ve ever been.”

Molly laughed a little. “I shall do my best to be so. Well...I simply wanted to thank you.”

Sherlock nodded, moving to head upstairs. “My pleasure. And welcome to Baker St, Molly.”

For just a moment, as Sherlock Holmes ascended the stairs and disappeared, she stayed rooted in place by her own door, the very simple sound resonating in her and taking her back in time to what felt like a different life. She hadn’t heard her given name spoken from his lips in ten years. It sounded the same...but somehow it was also so very different. It  _ felt _ different now. 

Molly drew a deep breath, opening her door and heading down to her new little home. It was hard to believe that this was where she’d found herself one week after arriving in London. It was certainly the last outcome she expected. But, again, she hoped that this would ease her into this new life where she would be working and living so near to her estranged husband anyway. Perhaps being this close would only speed her adjustment and force her to become accustomed to him all over again, and in a way, get to know him. 

Molly had to admit that she wondered very much about what sort of man he’d become in all their years apart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, there’s going to be a past and present swapping pattern in this fic. Because of how I now decided I’m labeling that, I actually went back to ch 1 and 2 and added some headers that weren’t previously there. This way it’s pretty unmistakably clear when certain things are happening. Also, italics for the past lol. Anyway, hope you’re enjoying things so far!  
> Big thanks to Lexie this week, who not only did the usual editing, but also schooled me on Georgian townhouses and how the whole flat situation would have actually worked during this time period. Fascinating stuff! The one thing I’ll share that is pertinent to understanding this fic is the fact that Molly’s flat and Sherlock’s flat wouldn’t actually have their own kitchen. Mrs Hudson would have a kitchen and be providing the meals for them in this sort of situation. Not only is this accurate to the time period, but it also works to push our fave pair closer together as often as possible muahaha! ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! Happy Monday, and it’s time for another chapter in this little tale. Read on and I’ll see ya at the bottom!

**1886**

_ Sherlock took the leisurely walk over the hills behind his family home. He walked until it finally came into view...that little house on the property. It was a lovely home, and in a way it felt strange that it was about to be his. His and Molly’s.  _

_ When he got closer and approached the stone wall, he could see a glimpse of some activity inside through the windows. His mother had assigned a few servants to prepare the place since it had been vacant for some time, lonely out on the edge of the Holmes’ estate.  _

_ “Strange that we should both decide to come here.” _

_ Sherlock turned, surprised to see Molly approaching. As she did, a thought suddenly occurred to him.  _

_ “Wait a moment...isn’t there some rubbish about me not being meant to see you?” _

_ Molly laughed. “That’s the night before the wedding, not the week before, you ninny!” _

_ He kicked a small rock. “Well, what do I know about such things?” _

_ They were both silent for a moment as Molly hopped up onto the rock wall staring at the house as he had just been doing.  _

_ “We could run off, you know,” he said eventually, hardly having planned the words. _

_ Molly looked at him quizzically, prompting him to go on. _

_ “I have an uncle in Scotland. He’d put us up somewhere, I’m sure of it. He’s always been rather kind to me, so I feel sure he’d take pity on us.” He looked her dead in the eyes. “We needn’t go through with this wedding if you don’t want to. You have only to give the word, and I’ll make sure we never have to.” _

_ A smile bloomed on Molly’s lips but she shook her head slowly. “Spoken like a true  _ **_man_ ** _ , without a care in the world! To what end, Sherlock? You have not thought this through. Do not forget why we are being made to do this- it is because of me and my reputation which can be ruined even more easily than you might stain your jacket. Running away with you would hardly save me from all that trouble.” _

_ Sherlock pursed his lips, feeling admittedly a bit dim. “Yes, I suppose that would be counterproductive.” _

_ “It’s lovely of you to offer a way out though,” she added softly. “You’re a true friend.” _

_ “As you are to me,” he replied quite seriously, then drew a deep breath, looking off toward the horizon. “I propose that we refuse to change that.” _

_ “Meaning?” _

_ “What I mean is that we are friends, and always have been. Perhaps that doesn’t need to change. Perhaps nothing needs to change, aside from the legalities or if all.” _

_ Molly listened with visible interest.  _

_ Sherlock glanced back at the house. “You and I will share this home, and technically we will be husband and wife, but I stake no claim on, or control over your life. You may go where you please, when you please, and I will do the same. Your life will be your own, which is more than can be said for most women forced into marriage.” _

_ Molly stared at him for a long time, appearing deep in thought. “I suppose it would mean quite a lot to keep my independence. And you...wouldn’t mind? Not truly being husband and wife, I mean.” _

_ “Of course not!” Sherlock laughed. “What the devil should I want with a wife? I crave the confines of marriage no more than you do!” _

_ Molly looked away, and for the briefest moment he thought she seemed unhappy, but then she turned to him again and smiled brightly. _

_ “Hardly the proposal that most young ladies expect before they marry, but perhaps it is the right sort of proposal for us.” She extended her hand. “To being friends?” _

_ Sherlock took her hand in his and kissed it, looking up at her sunlit face where she sat on the stone wall. _

_ “To being friends,” he heartily agreed. _

* * *

**1897**

Molly stepped inside 221 Baker St, smelling Mrs Hudson’s dinner cooking which almost instantly made her mouth water. The past week had been absolute heaven, coming home after studying to find a meal waiting and a smiling face greeting her. It was more than she ever thought she’d have here in London. The entirety of her plan had been to muddle through on her own and take care of herself in any way necessary. It was quite an unexpected and pleasant surprise that now she was being so kindly cared for.

After going down to 221C and unloading her books and hat, Molly came back upstairs, planning on heading into the kitchen and seeing if Mrs Hudson needed any assistance. But as she came back up to the landing, she heard a rather loud and angry sounding voice coming from upstairs. Unable to ignore and go about her business, Molly climbed the stairs slowly, trying to hear what was being said.

“There is no excuse, Holmes! I simply will not stand for it!” the voice bellowed. 

Although she wasn’t keen to walk in on an argument, Molly did consider that her presence might serve to diffuse a difficult situation, perhaps with a client, and so she advanced up the final bit of stairs and made her way to Sherlock’s door.

Stopping just outside the doorway, Molly rapped gently on the frame. “Mr Holmes, is everything quite alright?”

Sherlock spun around and so did the two guests in his sitting room, a man and woman she’d never seen before.

“Ah, Mrs Hooper. Yes, everything is quite alright. I was just being reminded of my many failings in the tedious job of caring for myself, as if I don’t hear that often enough from my landlady.” He gestured to the two people in front of him. “Mrs Hooper, this is Dr John Watson and his wife, Mary Watson. Mrs Hooper has recently let the basement flat from Mrs Hudson.”

Molly instantly grinned, stepping into the sitting room and extending her hand in greeting. “Dr and Mrs Watson, what a pleasure it is to meet you both. And Dr Watson, of course I already feel that I know you a little bit from your stories in The Strand.”

Sherlock’s expression of surprise was not lost on her, but she kept her focus on the Watsons.

John grinned, shaking her hand. “Well, how very flattering, Mrs Hooper. And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. You are no doubt a brave woman to make your home here!”

Molly laughed. “Thank you, but I count it as a blessing, in comparison to what my accommodations might have been. At least I can keep to myself as often as I need solitude.”

“Mrs Hooper is a new student of medicine at Bart’s,” Sherlock explained. “She takes her studies very seriously.”

“My goodness, how wonderful!” Mary exclaimed, visibly thrilled. “I confess, I should very much like to see the look of terror and intimidation on the faces of the male students.”

“I am curious though, Mrs Hooper,” John added. “What is  _ Mr _ Hooper’s opinion of your choosing such a path?”

“John!” Mary hissed, then turned to Molly, shaking her head. “My apologies for any offense, Mrs Hooper. I’ve only been married to my dear husband these six months, so I fear I’m still educating him in the ways of a modern woman and how best to support her.”

“It is perfectly alright,” Molly replied politely, noting that Sherlock had instantly retreated to stand by the window at John’s question. 

“Forgive me, I hardly meant to cause offense,” John countered. “It is a perfectly reasonable question! For a young woman to pursue a career in a male dominated field is quite a feat. There are challenges, and even dangers to consider, regardless of her capabilities!”

“Yes, I have considered those sorts of challenges, but I am prepared to face them. And to answer your question…” Molly cleared her throat and did her best not to look in Sherlock’s direction. “My husband is no longer with me, so I cannot say precisely what his thoughts would be. At present I am an independent woman, and free to make these decisions on my own.”

Before the Watsons could reply, Sherlock’s voice broke through from where he stood by the window.

“But surely, any thinking man would be perfectly happy, and perhaps even proud at the idea of his wife pursuing such a career. He would be a fool to do anything besides offer support.”

Sherlock glanced just briefly over his shoulder and caught her eye before quickly looking away again. Molly swallowed thickly before smiling at the Watsons again.

“Well, in the absence of your husband’s support, all of us would of course be happy to oblige,” John replied kindly. “I have many connections at Bart’s, so please do not hesitate to contact me if you encounter any trouble whatsoever.”

“That’s very kind, Dr Watson, thank you.”

“We must allow him to feel useful where we can, isn’t that right, Mrs Watson?” Sherlock quipped, giving Mary a little smile. 

John rolled his eyes. “And I do hope you won’t be driven absolutely mad living here! I can’t imagine completing medical school under such conditions.”

Sherlock took a seat by the fire. “Yes well, she is perhaps more even tempered than you are, Watson,” he muttered under his breath, though still loud enough to be heard.

“Alright, children,” Mary chided playfully. “John, perhaps we’d better get home before the bickering gets out of hand? And besides, I’m going to have to have a bit of a rest before we dine with your sister this evening.”

John seemed to zero in on his wife with instant attentiveness. “Yes, darling, of course you’ll need a lie down.” He smiled at Molly. “Again, it was a pleasure meeting you. I do hope we’ll see you again soon.”

“Yes, I hope so! You’re a busy woman, but please do call when you have the time. Mr Holmes will give you the address,” Mary added, smiling as she took her husband’s arm.

“I will, thank you,” Molly replied, watching them leave the little flat, arm in arm. She turned to Sherlock after they were gone. “They seem very well suited for each other.”

“Mary has done wonders for Watson,” Sherlock replied, picking up a pile of newspapers and thumbing through some. “She’s managed to get some things through his head that I never could, no matter how many times I told him.”

Molly felt suddenly out of place, standing there in 221B without the benefit of anyone else’s company to balance out their slight discomfort. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you for dinner downstairs soon,” she said, making her way to the door.

“Working tonight.”

“Ah.” Molly hesitated only a moment. “Well...have a good night then.”

“You as well,” he retorted, barely looking up from whatever he was reading.

Molly retreated quickly after that, deciding to squeeze in some reading herself before Mrs Hudson called her for dinner. Besides, she could recognize that level of focus in his eyes from a mile away. His mind was hard at work, and very little would break through that wall. Best to leave him to it. 

* * *

“Mrs Hudson, I’m off to bed soon,” Molly announced later that night, poking her head out of the doorway. “Dinner was lovely tonight, thank you. Can I do anything else to help?”

The older woman huffed out a breath, placing her hands at her hips. “I’m still scrubbing pots and pans, so I won’t be to bed for a while yet. There is something you can do for me.”

Molly stepped into her kitchen immediately. “Of course, anything. What would you like me to do?”

Mrs Hudson produced a tray she’d set aside with some tea and a plate of biscuits. “I’d be ever so grateful if you’d bring this up to Mr Holmes and  _ make sure he actually has some. _ I haven’t gotten the man to eat a bite all day!”

“Oh I see. Well, I…” Molly hesitated, not wholly comfortable with the idea. “I could certainly take over the scrubbing if you'd like to bring him the tray. I hate to see you do all that cooking and the washing up.”

Mrs Hudson waved off her words. “Oh never mind that! I’m more worried about that poor man wasting away upstairs! If I go upstairs again, he’ll shoo me away like he always does. Perhaps he’ll listen to  _ you _ .”

Molly sighed, but then gave Mrs Hudson a smile. Of course she couldn’t say no. To a certain degree, she was going to raise suspicion if she made a show of avoiding Sherlock. And so, a few minutes later she was trudging up the steps, the tray in her hands as memories came involuntarily flooding back. Approaching his doorway for the second time in a day, Molly drew a breath of courage before crossing the threshold. 

“Hello there,” she announced softly, and was greeted by the sight of Sherlock in his dressing gown, bent over something in his study. He glanced up, appearing surprised to see her for a split second.

Sherlock sighed aloud. “If Mrs Hudson has told you to deliver that tray you may feel free to leave it anywhere.”

Molly knew she could listen to him, set the tray down and retreat back downstairs, Mrs Hudson never being the wiser. But she also noticed the dark circles under Sherlock’s eyes and the obvious fatigue in his body language, despite the way he often claimed to be untouched by such things.

“As a matter of fact,” she said, walking over to the fire and setting the tray down on the little table. “I came up to have tea with you.”

Sherlock straightened up instantly, his eyes meeting hers in a combination of something like interest and surprise. “With me?”

Molly nodded. “Yes, just for a few minutes, before I get some sleep. Mrs Hudson sent up these lovely lemon biscuits and they’re still warm.” She laughed a little, taking a seat by the fire. “I couldn’t very well let you have them all.”

After vacillating for just a moment, Sherlock finally stepped away from his study and came over to the fire, taking a seat in his leather chair. “As you said, just for a few minutes,” he conceded.

Molly poured tea for both Sherlock and herself, and she made sure to set one of the biscuits on the side of his saucer. He picked it up and took a bite as soon as she’d handed him the tea, and she had to admit that it caused a little surge of pride at her own accomplishment. Content with her success, Molly settled back into her chair as well, enjoying her tea and nibbling on a biscuit of her own. 

Neither of them said anything, and she supposed they didn’t need to. After all, this wasn’t a completely new and uncomfortable place for them. No, they’d been here many a time before; sitting by a fire while sipping tea, enjoying the silence, or perhaps the soft sounds of the countryside. This was different, here in a third story flat in the heart of London, but in many ways it felt very much the same. 

Sherlock’s posture relaxed almost instantly, and he seemed at ease, enjoying the tea and soon helping himself to a second biscuit. Molly smiled behind her tea cup but said nothing. Mrs Hudson obviously loved him like a son, and Dr Watson clearly loved him like a brother, but while their motives were pure, pestering him to care for himself would have limited success. Molly had known him for long enough that she knew better than to go about it like that.

At times like this, when she felt like she instinctively knew him so well, she had to wonder at how far they’d drifted apart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So close and yet still so far away! They’ve got a ways to go, and naturally there’s more coming about their past as well. Thanks so much for the lovely comments and excitement so far, because it’s definitely feeding my motivation for this fic. :)  
> Beta credit to Lexie ❤️


End file.
